A Poem from my Future Self written to my Past Self re-read by my Current Self

I wrote this poem about a year or two ago. It is written by my future self, the one who is old and gray(er). I just pondered what my older self would tell my younger self if she could. I find this poem every once in a while. Tucked in a book or under my bed. I find it when I least expect it and most need it. A page or so may be missing or found each time but it strikes a cord either way.

Maybe there are people out there who will read it and think, wow, glad I don't have that problem. Maybe there are people out there that don't have my same struggles. Good for you. I am legitimately happy for you. If there is anyone who have a similar struggle maybe you will happen upon these words some day and feel the same resolve or encouragement I always seem to find when I read the words again. Really, I write this not for anyone else but my future self who might just read it on the web someday when I am most needing it. (That and I just don't have much confidence in ever finding it again and I want to remember this!)

My kids are grown and I'm all alone.
Now I look back on what I built my home.
Things I chose to speak about;
Paper cuttings and clothes strewn all about.
The endless nagging that I did
That never seemed to do any good.
Did I make their character stronger
The longer I went on and on?
Did they grow up better
Because I spoke so sternly
About what didn't really matter?
As I sit here with my lone coffee cup.
I think about what I would say now
If I could do it all over again.
Instead of being bothered by the paper,
Would I sit and draw and glue and staple?
Would I be thankful for the clothes on the floor,
Because it means there is life behind the bedroom door?
Would I speak with a gentle tongue,
Like we have been instructed by the One?
What words would build my home?
Soft as hay,
Not hard as stone?
Children are resilient,
They made it just fine.
But now that I am older,
Do I regret those times?
Where I made a big deal because of stress rather than need?
What words would I tell my younger self to heed?


I want to say I wrote more to this poem. Another page that is missing under the couch or in an old pants pocket. Maybe, as I am still on this journey, that page is yet to be written. Maybe I will find it some day that I least expect. Hidden in a drawer or the recesses of my mind. Regardless, the challenge implicit in these words, to me anyway, is you only get one chance. Live the life you want to live now. There is no time for regret later. Go to the Living Water and drink deep and love much. What else is really more important?